


Mend the Broken Pieces

by Dontknowmyname



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt Sam Winchester, Jealous Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19097767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dontknowmyname/pseuds/Dontknowmyname
Summary: Sam spent months trying to get Dean out of hell, but now that they were finally back on the road together it was obvious something had changed. All it takes is one bar fight to finally get them talking and quit avoiding what they both know can’t be escaped.





	Mend the Broken Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kissmewinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmewinchester/gifts).



> I took a leap because a friend inspired me to try something new. This is my first attempt at writing a Wincest Fic. It’s not very explicit, but it was a comfortable place to start. I’m more anxious than normal, so please let me know what you think!

He’s fallen into the same old routine of letting Dean dictate their every move and following his brother around the damn country without question. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with Dean, but he has a hard time believing Dean really wanted to be around him right now. Their conversations have been nothing more than polite small talk for months and it was honestly driving Sam insane. 

Even while sitting at a bar, people all around, Sam felt alone. Something he thought would change now that Dean was back, but here they were. Dean was currently working on his fourth beer after only an hour and a half and of course Sam was still nursing his first. 

“Not thirsty, huh?” The bartender placed beer number five in front of Dean and turned to Sam with a smile.

“Sammy here isn’t much of a beer drinker anymore.” The eye roll wasn’t lost on Sam, but then he was pretty sure Dean wasn’t trying to hide it.

He forced a smile at the bartender and took a longer swig of his beer. “Dean here drinks enough for the both of us, so don’t worry.”

“Alrighty then,” her smile faltered as she turned to walk away.

The two of them returned to sitting there in awkward silence until their food finally arrived. Then they were just silent. Sam didn’t feel much like eating, but he went through the motions—pouring dressing over his salad and mixing it up for much longer than necessary. When he finally decided to take a bite, he felt someone sit down beside him, their shoulder brushing against his. 

“Anyone sitting here?” 

Sam shook his head and chewed faster. “No, it’s all yours.”

“Oh good,” The man smiled. “Because I’ve been trying to make my way over here for awhile.”

“Guess it’s your lucky day then,” Sam curled the corners of his lips and returned to mixing up his salad.

“Could be yours too, you know.” A hand fell onto Sam’s knee but didn’t stop there.

He straightened on his stool, shoulders squared and eyes wide. When his mind finally caught up to what was happening, Sam quickly reached down to stop the hand. 

“N-no thank you,” He stuttered. “I’m not interested.”

“I saw the way you were looking at me,” The man’s hand gripped tighter, most likely leaving a bruise. “So, don’t be a tease.”

“You need to take your hand off of me.” Sam slowly turned, glaring at the douche bag beside him with his lips pressed tight. 

He felt the movement behind him and new instantly what was about to happen. It certainly wasn’t going to end well. At least not for this handsy douche bag. 

“There a problem?” Dean’s gruff voice broke the tension for just a second and Sam couldn’t help but smile. 

“No problem here,” Douche had the nerve to smile himself, his hand never leaving Sam’s leg even though Sam’s grip on the man’s forearm was practically bone crushing. “I was just offering to buy this young man a drink.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard him say no,” Dean’s eyes never left the man but his body was pressed close to Sam’s. “So I suggest you take your hand off of him before I break it.”

“Who the hell are you?” 

Dean didn’t even bother answering. In seconds, he ripped Douche’s arm out of Sam’s grip, swinging the man around on the stool and throwing him to the ground. Sam went to reach out and tell Dean to take it easy, to just get up and walk out the door with him, but Dean’s rage had taken over. 

After about three or four solid punches, Douche Bag was out for the count. Sam was fairly certain he was out after the first punch, but that hadn’t stopped Dean. In fact, Dean only stopped when three larger men jumped in and knocked his brother off the unconscious piece of shit. 

“Hey!” Sam grabbed one of the men by the arm and whipped him around, landing a perfect punch on his left side. 

The large man fell back into one of the tables, snapping the weak wood and taking out everything else that had been on top of it. When Sam went to turn back and help his brother, he felt something press into the side of his right thigh, followed by a slowly growing burn that had him screaming out in pain. 

He instantly turned his body and lifted his left leg, slamming a powerful kick into the culprit’s face and sending him backwards once more. He managed to push aside his own injury and made his way back to his brother, grabbing another large man when the idiot went spiraling backwards thanks to Dean’s nasty right hook. With his own rage taking over, Sam slammed his fists into the man several times, way more than was necessary, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. 

“Sam!” He tried to shrug the hand off his shoulder but then it reached for his fist, effectively stopping it from colliding with the man’s severely injured face. “Sammy, let’s go.” 

As if a switch just turned back on, Sam let go of the man’s shirt, watching as he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He allowed Dean to take his elbow and guide him toward the exit, only stopping long enough to throw a few large bills down on the counter. 

When they finally reached the car, Dean easily opened the passenger door and gently pushed Sam down into the seat. Sam just continued to stare, his hands shaking in his lap, until Dean took a hold of Sam’s face and tilted it upward. 

“Are you hurt?” Sam could feel Dean’s eyes scanning over his body, cataloguing any scrape or bruise he saw. 

He managed to shake his head ‘no’ and tried to pull his head out of Dean’s hold, but his brother just held tighter. Dean continued to stare at him, until his shoulders finally relaxed and his right hand shifted from Sam’s cheek to his shoulder.

“Let’s get out of here before the 5-0 show.” With a little help from Dean, Sam managed to shift into the passenger seat and rested his head against the back. The familiar smell of the impala relieving a bit of the tension, which just made him more aware of the throbbing in his leg. 

When he placed his hand over his jeans, he felt the wet sticky mess and the pain instantly spiked. He bit his lip so hard that he knew he had torn the skin, but he didn’t want Dean to sense any discomfort. He didn’t want to go the hospital. All he wanted to do was get back to the motel, treat his own wound and then fall back into bed until tomorrow or even the next day.

He must of let himself drift off because the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by a familiar touch. When he opened eyes, he saw his brother standing over him, eyes watching Sam’s every movements. It was uncomfortable but comforting all at the same time.

“Time to get up, Dude.” Dean gently slapped a hand over Sam’s shoulder before taking a step back. “Your beds waiting for you.”

Sam went to lift his leg to maneuver himself out of the car, but the pain rushed through his body and kept him planted in his spot. He tried to recover quickly but Dean must have noticed because he was back at Sam’s side, tugging his arm gently. 

There was no way he could walk without a limp, he was actually quite proud of the fact that he was walking at all. Once Sam was out of the car, Dean slung Sam’s left arm over his shoulders and Dean’s right arm wrapped around Sam’s waist. 

“Thought you said you weren’t hurt?” Dean’s words were quiet but Sam felt the unspoken warning.

“Just twisted my leg, that’s all.”

Dean didn’t question him anymore and while Sam was thankful for that, it was also a perfect example of how their relationship had changed. Had they been functioning on all cylinders, Dean would have noticed the frightening spot growing larger and darker with every movement. 

When they finally made it into the room, Dean carefully lowered Sam onto the closest bed and headed straight for the bathroom. Sam wanted so badly to just lay back and fall asleep, but he knew he had to take care of whatever was currently tearing apart his leg. 

He unbuckled his pants and prepared himself for the awful pain that would come when he pulled them down and over his wound. While the bleeding had stemmed, he knew pulling the fabric back would open it up once again. 

His body betrayed him just as he managed to get the pants over his hips. His hands were shaking and his vision was beginning to swim. He slumped sideways, pants bunched around his thighs but they were still hiding most of the wound. Sam took a few deep breaths, readying himself to finish the job so he could finally get to sleep.

“All that flirting wore you out, huh?”

The voice startled him and he sat up straight, instantly regretting the movement as the pain had him falling backward. He wanted to knock some sense into Dean, but obviously he was in no shape to take on his brother. This attitude was just too much for Sam to deal with right now.

“Shut up, Dean!” He couldn’t even bring himself to open his eyes. “I’m so sick of your shit”

“My shit?” Sam heard Dean’s footsteps approaching the bed but just couldn’t bring himself to react. “If I recall correctly, you’re the one that—“

The abrupt end to Dean’s rant was enough to make Sam finally look, but he shut them again when he felt a hand on his wound. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips and he threw his arm over his face, covering the pain he knew was written there. 

“What the fuck, Sam!” Dean paid no attention to Sam’s reaction and went right to work, stripping Sam’s pants to get a good look at his leg. “There’s glass in your fucking leg. What the hell, man!”

“Oops,” He didn’t remove his arm, but could still tell his response was pissing off his brother.

Dean probed at his wound, definitely pressing a bit harder than necessary, but not hard enough to make it worse. It was just enough to make Sam squirm and curse Dean’s meticulous hands though. 

“It’s not that bad.” His words were rendered pointless since they were spoken through his teeth. 

“If you weren’t bleeding already, I’d kick your ass.” Dean wiped Sam’s wound with a warm wash cloth. He hadn’t even realized the glass had been removed or that Dean had walked away at some point. “Since when do you hide stab wounds from me?”

Sam chuckled, “Since you stopped listening to anything I have to say.”

Shockingly, Dean was speechless after that and Sam was pretty sure his brother was smiling as he poured the alcohol over Sam’s wound. The crazy thing was that Sam couldn’t even be mad. At least Dean was there, actually helping instead of pouring salt on his wound.

It didn’t take long for Dean to clean, stitch and dress Sam’s wound, but it took everything for Sam not to drift off during the process. It wasn’t as much from the pain as it was the comfort of Dean’s hands on him. This is where Sam wanted to be, what he had missed the most. 

“You need help getting up?” Something about Dean’s tone was different. Sam didn’t feel the anger in his words this time. 

“Why do I have to get up?” He managed to lift himself up on his elbows. Enough that he could see Dean standing in front of him. “I like it here.”

“This is my bed.” There was no venom to the words, Dean was simply stating a fact and Sam was so pleased that he decided to have little fun.

“So…” Sam lifted an eyebrow along with the corner of his lip. “Why can’t I stay here?”

“Sam,” He was obviously getting aggravated, but not angry yet. “You were stabbed with a fucking beer bottle.”

“I don’t get the argument here.” Sam had finally made it all the way into a seated position. 

Dean sighed as he ran a hand through his hair and turned his back on Sam. He still wasn’t mad yet. This was something else. Since the door was cracked though, Sam was going to finally push his way in there. He was going to make Dean talk to him.

“I can’t do this.” Dean whispered as he paced in front of the bed. “We can’t do this.”

“Why?” Sam questioned. “Why is it that you barely look at me anymore, yet as soon as someone else gets a bit too friendly, you start throwing punches.”

“So you want someone else putting their dirty hands on you?” Dean stopped pacing and moved toward Sam, their faces inches apart now. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” he shook his head, his hands folded in his lap even though he wanted so badly to reach out to Dean. 

“Then what the hell do you want, Sam?” Dean threw his hands up in the air and turned away from Sam again. 

The room fell silent for a moment as Sam worked up the courage to answer. He knew exactly what the answer was, but he just wasn’t prepared to say it aloud.

Dean must have had enough with the silence. He turned back around, walking slowly towards the edge of the bed. His eyes never leaving Sam’s. 

“What is it that a demon and some Douche from a bar can give you that I can’t?”

“First of all,” Sam lifted his head and stared right back at Dean. “I was not interested in the douche bag at all. You heard me tell him no. Second of all, that Demon saved my life. She was there when you weren’t.”

He didn’t even wait for Dean to reply. Once the dam broke, the words just kept on coming. Even though he’d been trying to get Dean to talk. Sam just couldn’t take anymore of the guilt trip his brother was trying to force upon him.

“I was alone,” Sam admitted. “I’ve followed your lead for so long. I’ve had you by my side or at least in my corner my entire life and then you were just gone. All I could think about was killing all the evil and hoping somehow I could bring you back, but nothing worked.”

“Sam,” Dean tried to interrupt, but Sam held his hand up and continued.

“You asked me what I wanted,” Sam stared at his brother with a shy smile. “The answer is you.”

Without breaking their eye contact, Dean dropped to his knees in front of Sam, careful not to touch the bandaged wound. Instead, he reached for Sam’s hands and folded his fingers over them 

“I’m right here, Sammy.” He whispered, one hand slowly moving up to brush a stray piece of hair behind Sam’s ear. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Sam warned. 

Suddenly anything else Sam wanted to say was forgotten as Dean’s hand moved to cup the back of Sam’s neck. Next thing he knew, his brother was sitting beside him, guiding Sam’s body forward gently and closing the distance between them. 

Sam’s eyes grew wide when he realized what was about to happen. If he thought his body would listen to him, he would have pinched himself. When Dean’s lips pressed against his, all his doubt was forgotten. His heart was pushing blood through his body so fast that it made him dizzy.

When Dean finally pulled away, Sam was speechless. He hadn’t realized his hands had found their way to Dean’s chest, fisting the material of his brother’s shirt. Sam just stared, his eyes blinking faster than usual as his mind slowly caught up to the rest of his body. 

“Sammy,” Dean smiled, his hands warm against Sam’s cheeks now. “I promise.”

It was impossible to argue at the moment, and somehow Sam figured Dean already knew the effect his lips would have on the younger brother. Dean had finally found away to shut Sam up and get his way. Dean would definitely be using that trick in the future. The question was, who would enjoy it more?


End file.
